


The Annoyingly Whimsical Ass in the Purple Hat Keeps Trying to Jump My Bones

by SchrodingersKitten



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Biotechnology, Charms, Clover's Mad Seductive Skills, Jujus, Leprechaun Culture, Leprechaun Romance, Like Literal Magic, Magic, Multi, Post-War, Segregation, Troll Romance, Trolls Being Weirded Out By Leprechaun Romance, Xenobiology, Xenophobia, quadrants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8037985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchrodingersKitten/pseuds/SchrodingersKitten
Summary: After being forced into peace for the first time in centuries, Alternia has to take care of some aliens nobles. It doesn't take long for the alien nobles to, quote, "Do a genocide", unquote, quote, "as a joke", unquote, wreck the illusion of the simplicity of romance for the impressionable youth, and shove themselves so far up the Empress's ass she can barely sit down. Alternia almost preferred the unwinnable war.
Or, everyone on Alternia hates Leprechauns and that weird fetish they have for luck.





	The Annoyingly Whimsical Ass in the Purple Hat Keeps Trying to Jump My Bones

Her Imperious Condescension and a small handful of trusted diplomats sat a long table. It was not a round table; no one there was arrogant or self-loathing enough to consider themselves equal with anyone else present. It was, however, very shiny, with well-treated wood. The Empress, obviously, sat at it's head, with a about six subjuggulators and murderiners to each side, and the occasional legislacerator for good measure. This was a historic day; for the first time in six hundred and twelve sweeps, Alternia would sign a peace treaty.

The armed escort led in three of the aliens. Leprechauns, they called themselves. They were odd, whimsical creatures, and no one could really explain them. No one had ever seen a leprechaun pilot a space-faring vessel, and yet they had colonized their entire solar system. Some seemed impervious to bullets, while others smelled of seemingly random fruit. Some were very short, others were very tall. The set led in consisted of one about six feet tall, wearing a maroon hat, flanked by a very short figure who was distracted by a fly buzzing around the block and a bulky, brawny brute. The short one smelled like clovers. The trolls present did not rise but gave the Salute of Equals, both hands hiding their throats, chest protruding, bearing their hearts. Each leprechaun made a different noise, the small one squeaking, the giant grunting, and the maroon twig making some noise no troll had a word for, a soft rattling, like breath moving bone, and nodded. The gathered trolls relaxed. The newcomers took their seats, their downy green fur making a gentle scraping noise against the plastic of the chair.

“So, ya got us here. I ain't big on chitchat, specially not when I just lost somefin. So name your terms, buoys,” the Condesce said as soon as they were settled. The leader cleared his throat, politely removing his hat and setting it on the table, it's strange, bent symbol facing towards the Queen. “Money, yer Imperiousness. Gold for our troubles, and fer all the lives you took. After that, we would like some of yer technology. We're still in the dark ages compared to the likes of you. The Lord is lookin' for some way to defend ourselves, in case-” she raised a hand, cutting him off. Her face had dropped at the mention of gold, but returned to it's neutral position, the face she wore for negotiations. The resting batterwitch face. “I didn't ask for ya reasons, Sandbar. Just asked what you wanted. Fifty thousand Millicaegars, all in gold coins, about five hundred tunas of gold all together. Eight of our battleships and the blueprints to fetch modii. That sound good?” Crowbar calmly lit a cigarette. A purple blood barely restrained himself from rising and knocking the damn thing out of his mouth. They were here to impress, not act. He blew smoke across the table, choking his short friend who was eyeing a legislacerator lustfully. “Seven hundred tons. Ten battleships. And the blueprints to strife specibi.” The Condesce clicked her tongue. She was in no place to risk another war. This man knew what he was doing, if he broke a thousand tons she would have killed all three of them. He could sense her breaking points, and was carefully avoiding them, like a dog sniffing out mines. “Deal.” The legislacerators hurriedly copied down the terms as was stated by the leprechaun, one of them watching Clover out of the corner of his eye. “Anyfin else?” Crowbar took three long drags before speaking again. The silence seemed eternal. “The Lord wanted to make sure I'd at least make sure you'd never step foot on our territory again. We ever see you in the Serpentis system again, war is back on. Immediately.” The Empress leaned back in her seat, relaxing. “And that's it?” Crowbar put his cigarette out on the wood of the table. A seadweller gripped the table, trying to ignore the alien's constant insults. “Unless you got something to add?”  
“Yeah, I actually do. An exchange program. If you're gonna have our tech, we're gonna have some a your men. Fifteen leprechauns living on Alternian territory, all high-class motherglubbers, fifteen trolls on Serpenian territory. War gets declared, we both have hostages. They will not be citizens.”  
“We exchange fourteen individuals each, all the leprechauns upper class, trolls spanning the entirety of yer caste system. All adults. My bodyguards and myself volunteer, provided we can work from our new 'homes'.”  
“It's a deal.”  
“Then it's settled.”  
The brutish leprechaun growled at Crowbar, eyeing him angrily. He was waved off. The legislacerators put the finishing touches on the treaty, passing it around the table. Each person present read it and, in turn, signed. The leprechauns rose, politely tipped their hats, and exited, requesting a copy be sent to the Lord via fax. None of the trolls present had ever heard of a “fax”.

***

Crowbar lit another cigarette as they walked down the pristine white corridor, past paintings of the empress in poses ranging from noble to seductive, past golden busts of great trolls. He made the whole hall smell like burning clover and honey. Only the very end of the hall had been dedicated to empresses passed, the portraits gathering dust and the busts covered in purple graffiti. Clover was the first to speak up, his high, tinny voice echoing the mostly empty chamber of the foyer. “IDontThinkThat-”  
“Slower, Clover.”  
“I don't think I really like what you pulled back there, boss. I got me a man on Locam.”  
“You got yerself a man on every planet in the system, Clover. You'll be fine.”  
“Okay, but, I didn't agree to this! I gots to go back and pack-”  
“We ain't goin' back, Clover. We'll stay right here until the others arrive.”  
“W-what?”  
“Listen, things weren't goin' as planned. You could read it on her face. She ain't one to negotiate. It's a miracle I got what I did, and we both know we only got that because you were there. I saved our asses. We went back to the Lord with that kinda shit, he'd kill us with his freaky god claws.”  
“Okay, but we could've-”  
“No, we couldn't've. I got us in and out as quick as possible. Saved us as much trouble as I could. Thought up a solution on the spot. We're Alternian property now. The Lord can't touch us and the leprechauns are gonna think we're martyrs. We're untouchable here, and if we get sent back, we'll be untouchable in Serpentis.”  
Cans hung back, his face contorted into pure rage. That is, he wore a slightly grumpier expression than usual. You could see in his eyes that he knew Crowbar was right, he just didn't like it. Crowbar took a seat on a public bench, apparently designated for shades of green. Fitting, he thought. He held a cigarette out to Cans, who accidentally crushed it in his fingers. “We gotta find a place to stay tonight, boys. We'll get in with the Empress, be her servants, her pets, whatever she's feelin' up to, and be even better than we were back home. Just you watch.” The bench shuddered under Can's weight, and Clover was lucky it didn't snap.

***

It just so happened that the day the treaty was signed was the ninth wriggling day of Karkat Vantas. In another sweep, he and his friends would all be sent off planet. He wasn't looking forward to it, honestly, but it would happen regardless of his feelings. That is, unless something very, very drastic happened. But that would have to be something big enough to shake even the Empress.


End file.
